


Frat of the ABC

by henwens



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, coffee shop AU, frat boy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-17
Updated: 2014-08-17
Packaged: 2018-02-13 14:41:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2154384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henwens/pseuds/henwens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which wars are declared, battles are won, and everyone gets their happy ending.<br/>or: a les miserables frat boy-coffee shop fusion au</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. marius falls in love, and enjolras declares war

**Author's Note:**

> originally posted to my tumblr as a gift for my friend. some minor edits made.

“That damned man at the coffee shop has done it again,” Enjolras shouted as he burst through the door, scowling at everyone seated in the living room of their frat house.

“Mr. Jean?” Bahorel blinked at him, unbelieving. As a law student, Bahorel spent many frantic mornings at the coffee shop writing reports before his classes. Jean Valjean was a staple figure of the university, a pleasant older man who gave students a warm drink and a cozy, quiet place to finish their work. He hired only university students, those who most needed jobs, and despite various rumors of his run-ins with the law (mainly the result of the suspicious Officer Javert who could often be found lurking around the shop) was a kind father figure to all.

Everyone in the Fraternity of the ABC loved him. Everyone, that is, except for Enjolras.

“He hates me,” the blonde man slunk bitterly onto the sloping cushions of a couch, next to the sympathetic Jehan. “I swear he’s trying to kill me.”

“What is it this time?” Droned Grantaire from the couch opposite Enjolras. He had been glaring groggily at the energetic man from the moment the door slammed open, no doubt awoken from his hung-over nap by the loud noise.

“You know,” Enjolras continued, seemingly ignoring Grantaire. “There have been lawsuits about this type of thing. Coffee so scalding it gives people third-degree burns. I’ve read articles about it!”

“I sincerely doubt he’s trying to kill you,” Combferre corrected, ever the voice of reason. The young man was one of Enjolras’s closest friends, along with Courfeyrac. The three of them had founded the Fraternity of the ABC during their second year at the college, and now, in their senior year, they had amassed a tight-knit group of friends and followers. Although the fraternity was unrecognized by the university, its members found strength and solidarity within the ancient walls of House Musain, which they colloquially called The Tomb—a dreary name which was more an inside joke that Combferre and Courfeyrac had made at the expense of the ever-serious Enjolras.

Over the years they had been joined by Feuilly, an undergrad business major who lived in The Tomb year-round, Jehan, a flowery English major who lived and breathed poetry, Joly, a hypochondriac nursing major, Bahorel, who was just beginning his graduate schooling, and Bossuet, an older graduate student of law, who was prematurely bald and very unlucky.

It was Bossuet who had introduced the group to Marius, who was notoriously late for meetings, and whose ignorance often led to him floundering his way through arguments with the passionate Enjolras.

The final member of their group was Grantaire, who was not so much there for the cause (which, according to Enjolras, was to better the lives of their fellow students) but for the drinking games and the company. A cynical man, Grantaire was more often than not in a slightly buzzed state, though despite the glazed look in his eye he hung onto every word that the more passionate members of their group said.

A volley of laughter erupted from Courfeyrac, who had just received a text from their missing member.

“You’ll never guess what Napoleon just told me!” He exclaimed excitedly, using the nickname they had given Marius to mock him for one particular debate he had gotten himself into with Enjolras, which had left him blushing and close to tears.

“What’s that?” Jehan leaned in, curious.

“He’s in love!”

—-

Marius swept through the doorway in a flurry of activity, reminiscent of Enjolras’s entrance not long ago. Unlike Enjolras’s graceful fury, however, Marius took one step through the door and tripped over his untied shoelace, nearly falling flat on his face if Bahorel had not been there to stop him.

“Are you alright Napoleon?” Jehan joked, concern tingeing his voice.

Marius flushed even brighter at the nickname, brushing a hand through his tangled locks and straightening himself.

“I’m fine,” he squeaked. “Sorry I’m late.”

“It’s alright, Marius,” Combferre reassured him, but his voice was tense, as though he were restraining himself from laughter.

Marius narrowed his eyes suspiciously, and then glanced over at Courfeyrac. Observing the wild grin on the man’s face, he groaned loudly.

“I told you that in secrecy!”

“Nothing is secret in the ABC,” Enjolras said seriously.

Marius sunk onto a couch, covering his face with his hands. “You guys are going to make fun of me.”

“No promises,” Bossuet said gruffly.

“I think it’s lovely!” Jehan sighed. “Tell us all about her!”

Marius brightened immediately, no doubt thinking of the object of his affection.

“Oh! She is beautiful! I was at the coffee shop—”

Here, there was a scoff from Enjolras, but he was silenced by Combferre.

“—and I ran into her, I mean, I literally ran into her, and I spilled my coffee all over the floor.”

“This is better than an opera,” Grantaire snickered.

The other ABC members rolled their eyes, well aware of the klutzy shenanigans their youngest member got up to. Marius was not the brightest match in the box, or the most coordinated one.

“But she wasn’t even angry with me! Even though the coffee got all over her nice shoes—oh, she had the nicest legs—she just told me it was alright and that she’d take care of it! And sure enough, she called over Mr. Jean and I even got a new coffee, on the house!” He sighed longingly. “And to think, I didn’t even get her name.”

The room had gone quiet. Enjolras’s jaw was clenched angrily. Joly, who had been silent up until now, was the first to recover.

“Marius,” he said nervously, no doubt worried about incurring their leader’s wrath. “Did this girl—did she have blonde hair?”

“Yes,” Marius said, sighing once more.

“And… and you said she called over Mr. Jean? Did she call him anything in particular?”

Enjolras had slowly risen from his seated position. Marius, oblivious to this, shrugged.

“I’m not sure. I was a little distracted.”

“Marius,” Enjolras commanded. “This girl is the daughter of the enemy. You are never allowed to see her again.”

“What?” Marius shrieked.

“Marius, that was Cosette!” Courfeyrac said. “You know, Mr. Jean’s daughter?”

“I didn’t know he had a daughter!”

“She goes to our university!”

“I didn’t know!” Marius held up his hands defensively. “I have never known a love like this, if I had ever seen her before I surely would have known!”

Everyone in the room groaned, except Jehan, who seemed to be jotting something down in a journal.

“Forbidden love!” He sighed.

“Forbidden?” Marius seemed on the verge of tears. “Why?”

“Jean Valjean is a scoundrel and an assassin,” Enjolras said gravely. “He has tried to kill me far too many times with his scalding hot coffee, and I will not stand for a Brother of the ABC to date his spawn.”

Marius looked affronted. “C-Cosette is not spawn! She is the most lovely creature on the Earth!”

“Have you ever considered poetry?” Jehan leaned in and asked.

“I don’t see why this is so important to you,” Grantaire said to Enjolras. “Why should it matter who he dates?”

“Because it’s the principle of things!” Enjolras said. “I should have expected something like that to come from a cynic like you.”

Grantaire slumped back into the folds of the couch, glaring at nothing in particular.

“I have to disagree with you,” Combferre said. “You have taken this too far. Mr. Jean is not trying to kill you with coffee. The kind of coffee you get always comes out a bit too hot.”

“Plus you’re too impatient to wait for it to cool,” Grantaire interjected bitterly. Enjolras glared at him.

“It’s tyrannical to forbid Marius from seeing this girl,” Combferre scolded. “Besides, Cosette seems to make Marius happy, and isn’t that what we are supposed to fight for? The happiness of the students on campus?”

Enjolras sat in a ponderous silence for a moment, clearly won over by Combferre’s reasoning.

“I suppose that you can see this… girl,” he said finally, nodding resolutely. This was the first time their passionate leader had given up an argument so easily, and they all blinked at each other in surprise.

In Marius’s mind, the man resolved that it had been his proof of love that had warmed Enjolras’s heart. Now, he just had to ask the beautiful girl out on a date, without spilling coffee on something.


	2. the abc gets a new member, and joly declares war

"Stop talking," Enjolras demanded, bursting through the door, and ignoring the fact that the ABC members in the room had simply been studying silently. “I have an important announcement."

He was carrying a small box, which those in the room—Bahorel, Jehan, Grantaire, and Courfeyrac—eyed nervously.

“What is it?” Courfeyrac asked finally. He found it hard to believe that after all these years, Enjolras still managed to surprise him at times. He could only imagine what was in the box. Had Enjolras finally snapped, and had he built a bomb to send to the university’s president, whose secretary had stopped taking Enjolras’s calls last week?

“Our new member,” Enjolras said proudly, setting the box on the coffee table and reaching in. What he pulled out was a tiny gray puff of fur and claws and wide, unblinking eyes.

“…What is it?” Courfeyrac asked again.

“It’s a cat,” Enjolras said coldly, or, as coldly as anyone could say anything while holding a kitten.

“It’s… fluffy,” Bahorel said.

“I think it’s cute!” Jehan said, holding out his phone to snap a picture.

“Where did you get it?” Courfeyrac sighed, wishing that Combferre was here. He was always the one to talk Enjolras out of whatever scheme the man would hatch. Courfeyrac could only imagine what Enjolras was going to do with the thing.

“Eponine from the animal shelter downtown had a few out for adoption, and I was picketing the drugstore right near it because they sell that shampoo that tests on animals, and I thought a kitten would only help my case.”

“Enjolras…” Bahorel was shaking his head. “And you decided to bring it back here when you were finished?”

“Well it still needed a home.”

Jehan made a cooing noise at the cat, and Enjolras set it on the table. It made its way over to the gesturing poet on short, fuzzy legs.

“What’s its name?” Jehan asked, reaching for it once it was near enough.

“I was thinking Liberté, or Egalité, or…”

“Beyoncé?” Grantaire snickered.

Enjolras glared at the dark-haired man.

“What about ‘Grey’?” Courfeyrac suggested. It was simple enough, and he didn’t want anyone to get too attached to the kitten. Surely there might be some members of the ABC who would object to keeping a live animal in the house. He was not a pet-owner, but there must have been a lot of work that went into keeping a cat, and they were all students with busy schedules.

Enjolras tightened his lips, but nodded. “Come, Grey,” he said. “You can help me make new signs.”

He lifted the cat off the table, ignoring Jehan’s protests, and exited the room swiftly.

“Well,” Grantaire breathed out the moment he was gone. “That’s a new one.”

—-

Most of the members of the ABC lived in House Musain, and because the size of the house was small compared to the size of the group, the majority of members had roommates. The living situation was this:

Jehan and Bahorel shared a room, as did Combferre and Courfeyrac. Enjolras had a room to his own, but it was the smallest. Joly and Bossuet shared a room, but Bossuet practically lived on campus and rarely came back at night, and Joly could often be found at his girlfriend Musichetta’s dorm. Feuilly, who lived in the house year-round, had his own room, but when the group pulled all nighters he often found that Marius was shunted off to his room.

Grantaire had his own place, but more often than not he could be found dozing on the couch or window seat or in whichever room he had wandered drunkenly into.

Marius was a freshman, and therefore was required to live in the dorms on campus.

The night that from then on would be referred to as Grey’s Night, Bossuet was pulling an all-nighter, but Joly had had a stressful day of nursing courses, which had culminated in an argument with his girlfriend, and he had just wanted to come back to The Tomb for a restful sleep.

House Musain was ancient, and also home to several boys with tempers, and therefore many parts were in disarray. This was most evident in Joly and Bossuet’s room, where there was a hole right near the door that had mysteriously appeared one night, as though someone had been angered by some comments and had decided to kick the wall.

The most likely candidates were Enjolras or Grantaire, but no one was willing to throw out accusations. They kept meaning to spackle it over, but in a building with so much damage, they reasoned they would just have to spackle everything, and what was one more hole?

And so, the hole remained in Joly’s wall.

And it was through this hole that Grey the kitten silently crept, having grown tired of the angry blonde man and the incessant squeak of his marker on poster board.

The furry creature pawed its way onto the bed and curled up in the corner, falling asleep easily to the sound of the man’s light breathing.

—-

The next morning, Jehan was woken up by wailing.

He thought it was a dream at first—a nightmare in which he was being lured to his death on the watery shores by the screams of harpies. But as he blinked blearily awake and the noise persisted, he quickly became alert.

“Bahorel!” He shouted, tossing a nearby book at his roommate. “Wake up! Something’s wrong!”

He tore out of bed, Bahorel stumbling behind him (and rubbing his head where the book had made contact). They made their way towards Joly’s room in a moment. Luckily, the man left his door unlocked at night in case Bossuet were to return home, and so they got in easily enough, only to find the young nursing student perfectly fine—for the most part.

“I’m dying!” Joly cried, holding out his arms. He was wearing a thin, ratty t-shirt, leaving his pale arms exposed. Jehan and Bossuet could see tiny red bumps speckled up and down the length of them, and the skin around was red and inflamed.

“Oh god!” Joly wailed again, this time bringing Feuilly to the door. “Its rubella, it’s the measles, we just covered this in class the other day, I would know the symptoms anywhere!”

“These are hives,” Feuilly noted, getting closer and examining the bumps on the back of Joly’s hand.

“No,” Joly protested, shaking his head violently. “You all need to leave, I’m highly contagious. I’ll have to be quarantined!” He hesitated. “That means the hole should be patched up.”

Jehan and Bahorel shared a look. “Are you sure those are hives, Feuilly?” Bahorel asked.

“Sure. My cousin used to have a dog and his girlfriend would break out like this every time she came over.”

“Joly, listen,” Jehan said calmly. “You’ve probably just had an allergic reaction to something.”

“What, though?” Joly asked frantically. “I’ve done nothing differently!”

“We… may have an answer for you.”

—-

“Enjolras, the cat needs to go,” Combferre started. Jehan and Bahorel has shown up at the door to his room an hour ago with a bright red Joly, and explained the situation to him. Courfeyrac had added something about Enjolras’s plan to breed a small furry army of explosive cats—which Combferre did not really understand—and together they went over to Enjolras to explain why the cat could not stay with them.

“I don’t understand,” Enjolras scowled. “Why can’t he just take allergy medicine?”

Combferre sighed. “Joly is already taking several different prescriptions. I don’t think it would be a good idea to throw anything else at him.”

Enjolras murmured something that sounded suspiciously like ‘sugar pills’, but nothing more.

“Where’s the party?” a voice from the hallway mumbled. The three looked to the doorway and saw Grantaire leaning against the frame, grinning wildly.

“Be serious,” Enjolras scolded. “My supposed best friends are taking all my joy away.”

“Send it back to Eponine,” Courfeyrac suggested. “You can still visit it.”

“You can’t return an animal, Cour,” Combferre shook his head. “Enjolras probably doesn’t even have the receipt.”

Courfeyrac chuckled at that, and Grantaire looked highly amused, stepping further into the room despite Enjolras’s glare.

“What’s wrong with the cat?” He asked, and Combferre lifted his hands exasperatedly.

“Why was I the only one who didn’t know about the cat!”

“Enjolras is training it to assassinate the University’s President, and we don’t want it to be traced back to us,” Courfeyrac said accusingly. Combferre rolled his eyes.

“The only person the cat is hurting is Joly,” Enjolras scoffed.

“Well, I could take it,” Grantaire suggested. The three men turned to look at him, surprised that he would volunteer for that. Enjolras narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know if I trust you with Grey,” he said.

“Why not?” Grantaire frowned. “My roommate works with Eponine at the shelter, I can get all the supplies it needs from him. Have you even fed Grey anything?”

They looked over at Grey, who had been clawing at the corners of Enjolras’s bed this whole time. Enjolras looked sheepish.

“Well, I think I fed him some turkey from the sandwich I had.”

“Enjolras,” Combferre groaned. “Honestly, it’s a wonder how the ABC has stayed together all this time.”

“I can deal with people!” Enjolras protested. “But… perhaps I am a bit out of depth with Grey.”

“It’s settled then,” Grantaire looked pleased. “I’ll take the cat. And I can always bring it with me when I come over, as long as Joly stays out of its way.” He hesitated. “But, we’re going to have to change its name.”

Enjolras brightened. “To Revolution?”

Combferre and Courfeyrac groaned, but Grantaire hesitated.

“I was thinking more along the lines of Francis.”

“Francis?” Enjolras considered it. “You know, I actually like it. Francis it is.”


	3. the abc meet cosette, and gavroche declares war

Marius approached House Musain cautiously, Cosette’s hand warm in his grip.

“This is where you live?” she asked skeptically, but she did not sound judgmental. He felt himself fall in love with her all over again when she broke out in a smile. “It’s amazing.”

“Just wait ‘til you meet my friends,” he laughed. “We’ll see what you think after that.”

Marius opened the door to The Tomb and peered around the corner. Seeing that the living room was empty, he pulled Cosette into the house by the hand.

“It certainly has character,” Cosette said as she bit back a giggle. Marius tried to see the house he was so used to through her eyes—the clash of floral pillows on the sagging couches, clearly Jehan’s decorating. The stacks of law and medical books, dog-eared and tabbed thoroughly with post-it notes, which were mostly used as coasters for coffee cups and empty beer cans. The place was barely furnished, and the assortment of tables and chairs that were there were practically antiques. Marius flushed, embarrassed that he had not thought to clean the place up before bringing Cosette there.

He opened his mouth to apologize for the mess, but froze when he saw her smiling kindly up at him.

“I like it,” she said. Before he could reply, he heard someone coming down the stairs. Praying it wasn’t Jehan or Grantaire or—heaven forbid—Enjolras, Marius turned his head.

“Is this who I think it is, Marius?” The young woman asked around a smile. Eponine was not technically a member of the ABC, but she had managed to befriend Enjolras somehow and that seemed to solidify her position as an honorary member. The other members always teased Marius about his and Eponine’s relationship, because apparently they were the only two freshmen the older members knew, and this meant they were destined to end up together.

After months of putting up with the teasing, they had tried to go along with it—but it ended after only a week. They were simply just not meant for each other in a romantic sense.

Eponine remained a close friend and confidante, however, and although the other ABC members knew about his interest in Cosette, Eponine was the only one who knew she had actually agreed to go out with him.

The two women smiled amicably at each other, both curious but hardly distrustful. When Eponine reached the bottom of the stairs, she held out her hand to the blonde woman, who took it.

“I’m Cosette,” Cosette said, waiting for a name in return. Eponine quirked up the side of her mouth.

“Oh, I know, I’ve heard all about you.”

A flush rose in Cosette’s pale cheeks, and she pulled her hand away gently, only to smack Marius on the shoulder.

“Hopefully good things,” she said, ignoring Marius’s protests.

“Oh yes,” Eponine said quickly. “I’m Eponine, by the way. You’re lucky I’m the first one you ran into, I think any second the boys are going to be down from their meeting, and Marius gets a little too caught up in the action sometimes. I can explain who everyone is to you, if you’d like.”

“That would be nice,” Cosette said, and as the ruckus from upstairs grew, loud voices echoing through the entryway, she straightened her skirt nervously. Marius reached over and took her hand, stroking his thumb gently along the outside it.

“They’re going to love you,” he said.

And everyone did. Within moments of the boys’ arrival downstairs, Cosette had exchanged words with almost everyone, and had charmed them all.

An explosion from the front yard suddenly jerked everyone to attention.

“What the hell?” Grantaire grumbled, and Enjolras strode angrily to the front door.

“Gavroche!” He shouted, and Courfeyrac and Jehan shared an excited glance and ran over to the door.

“Hey kid!” Courfeyrac slid past Enjolras and ran out into the yard, offering a high five to the small child grinning wildly in the midst of Jehan’s rosebushes. The boy jumped up excitedly and hit his tiny hand against Courfeyrac’s. Then he dug around in his backpack for a few sparklers and began handing them out to the growing crowd of ABC members, all fascinated with the young child’s collection of fireworks.

“Stay away from the roses,” Jehan warned the others, but the grin on his face betrayed him as he accepted two of Gavroche’s sparklers.

“Isn’t that Professor Thernardier’s son?” Cosette asked. “I’ve seen him around the coffeeshop a lot, usually throwing fake vomit at our customers.” Her tone was more amused than disapproving, and Marius smiled.

“That guy is so busy failing all his students he barely pays any attention to his kid,” Combferre clucked his tongue. “Gavroche is a troublemaker, but he’s good for us, reminds us all—even Enjolras, sometimes—to have fun. Plus we keep him out of serious trouble—and away from that awful mother of his.”

“Mr. Jean says I should stay away from you guys,” the little boy ran up to them and added. “I think you guys are cool, though.”

“We are cool,” said Enjolras solemnly, and Grantaire giggled around the opening of his beer can.

Gavroche gave a toothy grin to Cosette and held out a lit sparkler to her, as though it were a rose. Cosette smiled easily back at the boy and accepted it gingerly. The boy hung around them for a few more moments before Enjolras shooed him off to go help Bahorel, who was being chased by a sparkler-wielding Jehan. Gavroche accepted the mission, throwing one more glance at Cosette, a bright red flush blossoming on his cheeks.

—-

Because Cosette’s first introduction to the ABC went so well, she came back with Marius almost every day that week. Gavroche hung around that week too, hiding in the rosebushes until Marius and Cosette strolled through the gates, at which point he would set off a series of firecrackers he had hidden around the yard.

After the second day of this, Cosette had learned to look for where he was hiding, and to wear less-flammable clothing (though the little boy had felt terribly about singeing her skirt that one time). Marius, on the other hand, never learned to anticipate what was coming.

Therefore, whenever Gavroche set the fireworks off, Cosette would step out of the way and giggle loudly as Marius shrieked and sprinted for the door. It became a source of amusement for the other ABC members as well, and though Gavroche was scolded a few times by Courfeyrac and Combferre and Enjolras, eventually everyone began to place bets on just when Marius would learn his lesson to avoid the fireworks, not run through them.

And whenever Marius finally reached the safety of the front porch, he would pout and flush until Cosette soothed him with a quick peck on the lips, much to the dismay of the young besotted Gavroche.

At the end of the week, after a particularly lively bout of fireworks ended with Marius on his behind, Cosette turned to the young boy with a frown.

“Gavroche,” she said, her tone still kind. “Not that this hasn’t been a lot of fun, but you do know you could really hurt someone with all this.”

“Like me,” Marius groaned.

“Like my boyfriend,” she said. “Or yourself. I’m worried about you. Why have you been doing this?”

Gavroche was bright red. “Because…” he looked over at Marius, who had gotten himself up and was walking over to them.

“Because I like you,” he murmured quietly, looking at his feet.

“Oh,” Cosette said, “that’s very sweet, Gavroche, but I think I don’t know if I’m right for you. I think I’m a bit too old.”

“I’ll be ten in two months,” Gavroche bragged. “Double-digits.”

Cosette laughed. “I will admit, Gavroche, you are quite the package. You’re adorable, witty, and you have fireworks.”

Gavroche grinned.

“But I’m afraid I’m already with Marius, and I’m not really planning on leaving him soon.”

Gavroche bit his lip. “But… is there still a chance for me?”

“Give it another ten years, and we’ll see. But in the meantime, I know you’ll meet someone else that’s more suited for you—and closer in age.”

She leaned over and gave him a quick peck on the forehead. “Now, run inside and find Courfeyrac. I think he said he bought a new set of sparklers for you.”

Gavroche lit up and took off excitedly for the house.

“What was that all about?” Marius grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Please don’t tell me you’re jealous of a nine year old,” she said, giggling. She walked over to him leaned in for a kiss.

“I’m not,” Marius said when they broke apart. “But only because you called me your boyfriend.”


	4. Chapter 4

“I come in peace,” the older man lifted his hands defensively. “I have something important to tell you.”

Enjolras glared at Jean Valjean, crossing his arms. “Say it quickly. And keep your hands where I can see them, I don’t want any molten coffee thrown in my face.”

Valjean looked confused, but he lowered his hands slowly. “It’s about your house. I have a good source on the city council who tells me that the mayor is petitioning for Musain to be torn down.”

“What?” Courfeyrac asked, lowering his tone. He looked over at Enjolras. He was the one who had brought Valjean in to see him, when the older man had told him over the counter of the coffee shop that he had important news for their fraternity’s leader.

“And who is this source? That cop that hangs around your shop? I didn’t realize you two were on speaking terms.”

Valjean shrugged. “A good cup of coffee can win over anyone.”

Courfeyrac made a series of motions with his head and his eyebrows that Enjolras gave up trying to interpret—though he assumed it was Courfeyrac’s way of telling him to play nice. He sighed.

“Thank you for bringing this to our attention,” he said. “I suppose you’re not… so terrible.”

Valjean looked amused. “Thank you. You know, I realized the other day that the machine I was using for your coffee did run a little too hot. I apologize if it ruined the taste at all.”

Enjolras flushed. “Oh, no sir, not at all. I mean, it was a little hot, but nothing I couldn’t handle.” He stoically ignored Courfeyrac’s chuckles as he showed Valjean the door.

By the time he returned to the living room, Courfeyrac had sobered completely.

“What are we going to do?”

“Tell the others,” Enjolras ordered. “We are going to organize a protest.”

—-

“It’s never going to work,” Grantaire said bitterly, once the others had been informed and Enjolras had shared his plan.

“House Musain is going to be torn down,” Enjolras said angrily. “We have to do something.”

“We’ll help you protest the city council meeting,” Combferre said, “but I think we should have another plan as well.”

“This is the only way I know how to protect our home,” Enjolras replied after a moment, sounding a little helpless. The other members exchanged worried looks. “We’ll picket the meeting and spread awareness of this injustice.”

“What makes you think they’re going to care?” Grantaire said, for once sounding impassioned and, surprisingly, completely sober. “We shouldn’t be appealing to the city; they’re looking for any excuse to get rid of the fraternities that trash their town, especially one that isn’t even a real fraternity. We should be going to the university, asking them to give us official standing—”

“It would take too long!” Enjolras argued. “We need to act now!”

“We don’t need to act alone though,” Grantaire said. “If we had the university on our side…”

“The university president stopped listening to what I have to say months ago! No one is going to help us! We are all alone in this!”

“That’s because no one takes you seriously!” Grantaire shouted back. “You’re just a silly college student holding a stick with a sign on it, protesting something that doesn’t matter to anyone else but you—except this time it does matter and all you’re doing is ruining our chances!”

The room was as silent as the grave. Enjolras was straight as a rod, fists clenched at his sides, his face an exquisite portrait of fiery rage.

“Enjolras—” Combferre started, but the blond-haired man held up a hand to silence him.

“You—” Enjolras said, his voice tight. “You are incapable of believing. Or thinking. Or willing, or living, or dying. All you do is make snide remarks and drink, and drink, until anything you are likely to contribute to our fraternity or society in general is as addled as your drunken speech.”

Grantaire was as pale as a ghost. “I am not drunk now.”

“And yet you still do not make any sense.” Enjolras took a deep breath. “I want you out.”

There were a few gasps, and Grantaire took a step back. “What?”

“Enjolras—” Combferre tried again, Courfeyrac at his side, looking shocked. The rest of the members stood behind them, mouths hanging open.

“You can’t mean that,” Grantaire said. His face was stony, but his voice was tearful.

“You never belonged here,” Enjolras scoffed. “You were a mistake from the start.”

“You’ll see,” Grantaire said gravely, stepping back out of the room. “I’ll make things right.”

Enjolras lifted his chin, his face cold. “I don’t think so.”

“You did not have to be so cruel,” Jehan said, once Grantaire had gone.

“I didn’t see anyone speaking up for him,” Enjolras said. “You all know he was poison for our group, we who strive to see happiness on this campus. All he did was bring us down, he contributed nothing, he—”

Enjolras stopped suddenly, looking as though the weight of his actions had just crashed down on him. “I don’t want to hear any more about it. Make some signs and meet me downtown in an hour. We are going to save our home.”

—-

It had been a week since the news of House Musain’s imminent demise, and Grantaire’s banishment from the ABC. Enjolras had picketed outside the mayor’s office, the city council’s meeting place, and even the houses of some of the city council members, and yet there had been no news of the council changing their decision at all. Enjolras was rapidly losing his spirit, not only because of that, but also because at each of his scheduled protests he’d had very little turnout from his supposed brothers.

By the end of the week, he was furious enough to confront them.

“I am very disappointed by your turnout,” he started, crossing his arms and staring down each brother, as well as Cosette and Eponine, who he had enlisted to help as well.

“About that,” Combferre said with a strange smile. “Enjolras… I’m sorry that we had to keep this from you, but we actually have some good news.”

Enjolras looked confused. “What?”

Courfeyrac grinned. “You might want to sit down for this.”

There was a knock from the hallway and Grantaire suddenly appeared in the doorway of the living room.

Enjolras frowned, but seemed to remain calm. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, firstly I wanted to apologize for what I said,” Grantaire started. “None of us think that what you do is stupid. In fact, you’re probably the bravest man we all know.”

There were murmurs of agreement among all the members, and Grantaire continued.

“Secondly, I wanted to be here when they told you.”

“Told me what?” Enjolras asked, looking back to the others. “What is going on?”

“We know how much you wanted your protest to succeed,” Courfeyrac said. “And we don’t want you to think that what you did wasn’t important—”

“Just get on with it,” Combferre elbowed him. “The poor guy is about to explode.”

“We saved the house.”

Enjolras sunk down into the chair. “What? But how?”

“Everyone came together with their own special skill and we appealed to the university’s president. He wants to establish House Musain as a historic landmark.”

“Cosette and Marius did some digging on the history of the place, and found out that a lot of the university’s more famous alums used to live here,” Courfeyrac explained.

Cosette smiled at Enjolras. “Plus, the architecture is so beautiful, and Jehan found out that the style of the house is nearly a century old. It’s practically a piece of art history.”

“Bahorel and Bossuet did some research too, and their law background really helped a lot,” Combferre continued.

“All we did was look into the requirements a building needed to be considered a landmark. The Tomb met almost all of them,” Bahorel said with a grin.

“I don’t know what to say—” Enjolras said.

“There’s more,” Joly interrupted. “Jehan and I wrote up a proposal, and Feuilly added his own testimony to it, about how this was his home when he had nowhere else to go. And Eponine helped Gavroche write something of his own, about how we take care of him when his family’s not around. We also wrote about all the work you’ve done for the city, and the animal shelter, and—”

“And you?” Enjolras asked, turning to Grantaire, who was looking on proudly from the doorway.

“Don’t you remember?” Jehan asked. “This was his idea!”

“I remember,” Enjolras grumbled. “I only asked whether he contributed something specifically.”

“It’s alright,” Grantaire nodded. “I was the one who presented it to the university.”

“You?”

Instead of acting offended, Grantaire laughed breathlessly. “You don’t know this about me, but my major is actually communications. Sports journalism, to be exact, but I’ve taken enough classes to know how to propose something convincingly enough.”

Enjolras rose from his seat. “I didn’t think you…” He flushed. “I’m sorry. I never thought to ask.”

“I know how you felt about me,” Grantaire said. “I certainly didn’t do anything to make a case for why I should be an ABC member. I… I understand if you still don’t…”

Enjolras shook his head. “I was wrong. You really do belong here, with us.”

Grantaire smiled happily and nodded to him. Everyone applauded loudly.

Enjolras looked around the room, at everyone who had saved their home, saved their fraternity, for him. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“You protect us all the time, Enjolras,” Courfeyrac said. “This is the least we could do for you.”

“I—” Enjolras opened his mouth but no sound came out. “How can I ever thank you guys?”

Everyone shared a look, glad the worst was behind them.

“I think I have an idea,” Grantaire said. “What about letting us throw a party?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made grantaire a sports journalism major because of his background in boxing and other sports


	5. the war is won, and the abc celebrates

Word spread quickly through the campus about the party at The Tomb. By nightfall House Musain was practically overflowing with university students and their friends alike, all with a beer in hand.

“How did you get all these people here?” Enjolras asked, looking astonished. Grantaire smiled.

“I’ve been dreaming of this day since I joined the frat,” he chuckled. “You guys wouldn’t know how to throw a party if it was written on every page of your law textbooks. This is why I’m here for you.”

Bahorel chuckled. “Getting these guys to open up is really a miracle, you did well. Even Joly seems to be enjoying himself,” he motioned over to where the bespectacled young man was dancing excitedly with Musichetta and Bossuet.

Jehan was laughing as well. “The real miracle is that Enjolras is letting this all slide.” Their blond leader’s eye had been twitching since the moment the guests had started arriving, but a few drinks later and he was relaxed and easy-going. It was a side they’d seen often drinking late into the nights, but never when he was surrounded by this many people.

“I think you deserve a beer, to celebrate your success,” Bahorel clapped Grantaire on the back and held out a red cup.

“Actually, no,” Grantaire said, waving away the drink. “I think I’ve had enough for tonight.”

They all shared a look and nodded in support. Enjolras smiled proudly at the other man.

Suddenly, Marius sidled up to them. “Have you guys seen Cosette?”

Jehan shrugged. “The last I saw she was with Eponine—oh, there she is now!”

The dark haired girl had Courfeyrac by the arm and was pulling him their way, Combferre trailing behind. She cast a glance at Marius, before leaning over to Enjolras and whispering something in his ear.

The blond man nodded and looked over at Grantaire and Bahorel. “Stay with Marius, will you? Jehan, come with me.”

“What is it?” Marius blinked owlishly at them. “Where’s Cosette?”

“She’s fine,” Eponine said reassuringly. “She was just taking a break from the party. I’ll send her down in a second, I promise.”

Marius looked heartbroken, but he nodded. “If it’s my fault, tell her I’m sorry.”

The others had stepped away from them, heading for the staircase, but Eponine took a step forwards. “It’s nothing you did, on purpose at least. Honestly, you big sap. But—I’ll let her know you said that. Although I don’t think it’s what she needs to hear, not right now.”

“Then—tell her I love her.”

Eponine quirked her mouth into a smile. “There you go.”

—-

The members of the ABC that Eponine had recruited—Enjolras, Combferre, Courfeyrac, and Jehan—found Cosette in Enjolras’s bedroom. Eponine told them she had brought her here when Cosette had asked for a quiet place to think. She had grown concerned when Cosette told her what was on her mind, however, and left quickly to find some of Marius’s friends.

What Cosette had come to believe was that Marius did not love her, and that it was only a matter of time before they would break up.

“He’s gone so quiet around me, lately” she said, her voice sad. “Like the quiet before a storm. I don’t know if it’s because I did something wrong, or if he’s never actually—” she stopped, looking distressed.

“I swear to you, that is not true,” Eponine said, wrapping an arm around Cosette. “I’ve known Marius for a while now, and so have these guys. He’s a huge dork, a klutz, and he’s head over heels for you.”

Cosette smiled sadly. “He never says so, though. I was the one who had to declare that we were official, and I’ve been meaning to tell him I love him for a while now, but every time I do I get so scared he won’t say it back.”

Eponine shared a look with Enjolras, who nodded.

“Listen,” she said. “I know he wouldn’t have told you, because it embarrasses him. These boys make fun of him for it all the time.”

The others in the room had the sense to look sheepish.

“What do you mean?” Cosette asked, looking around at them.

“You’re his first girlfriend,” Combferre said.

Cosette shook her head, looking over at Eponine. The dark-haired girl shook her head and laughed.

“We went out on two dates. On the second one he tried to kiss me and knocked our heads together, and then spilled our drinks over everything on the table. You are definitely the only one that boy has been in a relationship with.”

“Oh,” Cosette said. “Well, now I feel silly.”

“Marius shouldn’t have made you feel like that,” Enjolras said. “I will have to speak with him later about how members of the ABC always express what they are feeling.”

Eponine chuckled. “He is only a boy.”

“We swear to you, on the spirit of… of the fraternity, though, that he is completely besotted with you. Give him an opening, and he’ll follow you to the ends of the earth,” Jehan smiled in support.

“Thank you all, so much,” Cosette said, rising from her seat on the bed. “He is lucky to have you all. If you don’t mind, I need to go talk to him now.”

“I swear,” Courfeyrac breathed out a laugh when she was gone. “I’ll never know what that idiot did to deserve her. Here’s hoping he doesn’t do anything to lose her, either.”

“I have a feeling she can take care of herself, if that day comes,” Combferre said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to see it would do to Marius. We’d be swimming in his tears—and The Tomb would get water damage.”

—-

“Cosette, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Marius sighed with relief as he stepped out on the porch. It was nearly empty now, only a few stragglers at the other end talking quietly, their cigarettes a sporadic red glow in the night.

“Marius,” she said, and he could see the smile on her face even without the moonlight.

“Where did you go?” He asked, his heart racing. He had thought he’d lost her for good—that she’d finally woken up and realized just who she was with.

“I know who I’m with,” she placed a hand on his cheek, and Marius realized he’d said that last part out loud. “I know you, Marius, the real you. I’m sorry about leaving you, I was just afraid.”

“You? Afraid?” Marius shook his head. “I’ve seen you face down fireworks and spiders and that woman at the dining hall who always gives me the corners of brownies. I didn’t think you were afraid of anything.”

“Only losing you,” she said honestly. Marius leaned closer in to her, and felt her thumb stroke the side of his face lightly. “I didn’t know if you really—if you loved me. But I know the answer now.”

Marius pulled back, shocked. “You didn’t know I loved you?” He tried to think back. “I didn’t realize I’ve never said it before. I’ve been saying it in my head—and to everyone around me—since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Cosette’s laugh was like sunshine after the storm. Marius said it in his head once more, and then said it aloud. “Cosette, I love you with all my heart. I’m sorry you ever had to doubt it.”

“And I love you, Marius. Even though you did spill coffee on me when we first met.”

Marius chuckled deeply and leaned in for the kiss, Cosette meeting him halfway.

From the doorway near them, the members of the ABC began cheering.


End file.
